


you were simple once before

by paradis



Series: Learning Lessons [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Aftercare, D/s, Dom!Derek, Light Bondage, M/M, Rimming, sub!Stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-11
Updated: 2013-06-11
Packaged: 2017-12-14 16:53:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/839170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paradis/pseuds/paradis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Surprisingly, Derek is the one to bring it up. Their sex lives had been relatively vanilla up until the night before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you were simple once before

**Author's Note:**

> This is, technically, a porny celebration for myself of reaching 900 followers on tumblr.
> 
> okay, that's true but it's not the whole truth. the whole truth is that this is the prequel to Lesson Learned, and I actually really love this 'verse. So, I think I've tagged everything, but warnings because this is a D/s 'verse, sub!Stiles, and Dom!Derek. Also for gratuitous use of the pet name 'baby' because idk i just think that's adorable for some reason.
> 
> thank you to my beautiful beta and best friend, Darien, for looking this over and reassuring me the sex isn't terrible (truth, guys, I think i suck at writing sex)
> 
> AND, the title is from The High Strung's 'The Luck You Got.' Which, for those of you who do not know, is the theme song for Shameless.
> 
> p.s. if I've missed tagging something and it makes you uncomfortable, please don't hesitate to tell me I should add more tags. i know this can be a sensitive reading topic for some so i try to put as many warnings as possible. also, you don't _have_ to read Lesson Learned as this is the prequel, but I'd love it you did.

It happens slowly.

They’re fucking one night and Stiles is desperate, frantic, the need buzzing through his skin so fast he could cry from it. But Derek is taking his slow and sweet time, kissing a trail starting at Stiles’ ear and circuiting down to the waistband of Stiles’ briefs before coming back up to his ear again. Stiles gets tired of it fast, as much as he enjoys Derek’s lips and teeth on any part of his skin he can get them on, and he sneaks his hands under Derek’s body; goes to start trying to take his own briefs off. Derek looks up, a flat look on his face. “No,” he says simply, and goes back to laying his affections on the dip where Stiles’ hipbones curve towards said briefs. 

Stiles whimpers. “ _Yes,_ Derek, I need –” He’s still struggling to get his briefs off, and Derek sits up quickly, taking Stiles’ hands and wrapping one of his own much large hands around both wrists. 

“I _know_ what you need, and I’ll give it to you when I decide I want to,” Derek tells him. He moves Stiles’ arms above his head, wraps Stiles’ fingers around the headboard. Stiles instinctively squeezes the headboard, whimpering again. “Keep them there,” Derek tells him seriously, and Stiles’ eyes widen. The look in Derek’s eyes is one that suggests he’s not to be messed with. One that says Stiles could suffer punishment if he doesn’t listen and keep his hands where he was told to. 

“Yes,” Stiles swallows, “Okay.” 

Derek gives him a pleased look and goes back to kissing every visible inch of Stiles’ skin. 

Stiles doesn’t move his arms until Derek is three fingers deep into him, taking his sweet time teasing him, and Stiles is positive his soul is buzzing right under the surface of his skin, getting ready to explode if Derek doesn’t _do something soon._ He wraps his hands around Derek’s forearms, whines, says, “’m ready, Der, ‘m _ready._ ” 

And Derek – Derek stops. He pulls his fingers out and Stiles is left clenching around cold air, empty and desperate as Derek looks at him. “Stiles,” he says in a deadly calm tone. “Your hands.” 

Stiles opens his eyes, stares down at where his pale fingers are wrapped around Derek’s darker forearms, dark and light touching, and squeezes for a moment before letting go. “Sorry,” he mumbles. 

“We’ll see about that,” Derek says, and it sounds like a promise. Stiles’ mouth falls open as Derek once again moves his arms above his head, staring down at Stiles until Stiles’ reaches up and wraps his fingers around the bottom of the headboard again. “Keep them there this time,” Derek murmurs in Stiles’ ear. “Or I’ll stop.” 

Stiles whimpers, can’t _imagine_ what he’d do if Derek stops, and nods, closing his eyes once more as Derek moves down and quickly thrusts three fingers back inside him. 

It’s good. Stars exploding good, when Derek finally gets his dick inside him. Stiles wants so badly to wrap his arms around Derek’s neck, wants to _touch_ him, feel his skin underneath Stiles’ fingertips like little sparks of electricity at every touch. “Please,” he gasps, “Please, please, Derek.” 

“What do you want, baby?” Derek murmurs, kissing his neck. 

“T – touch, wanna touch you,” Stiles pleads. 

Derek shakes his head. “No, baby, I like you like this. Like you following my orders, being a good boy.” 

Stiles shudders, loves the feeling of Derek’s breath on his skin when he praises him. 

“Come, wannacome,” he slurs out, twisting, arching his back so he presses even tighter up against Derek, and Derek hits the perfect spot inside of him, all over him. 

“Go ahead,” Derek coos, kisses both of Stiles’ eyelids. “Go ahead and come for me, baby.” 

And Stiles does. 

++

Surprisingly, Derek is the one to bring it up. 

Their sex lives had been relatively vanilla up until the night before – Stiles knew what he liked, had figured out his kinks back in college when he and Derek were still doing their awkward dance around one another. He just hadn’t had it in him to confess to Derek that in the bedroom submission was his thing – he felt like Derek would laugh, disbelieving that Stiles actually had it in him to submit to something _Derek_ asked of him, because in everyday life Stiles was all about proving Derek wrong, or defying Derek’s orders. He worried, too, that it wasn’t a kink for Derek, that if in fact he did tell him, Derek would be so completely turned off he’d turn Stiles _away._

“I know that… I crossed boundaries, last night,” Derek says uncertainly at the dinner table while Stiles twirls pasta on his fork. Stiles keeps twirling and stares down at his plate, watching more and more pasta wind around the tines of the fork. “We never – discussed, um… kinks. And I just – I want to apologize, because you’ve been really quiet today, and I thought maybe. Maybe I crossed a line. And you never told me to stop but maybe – maybe there was some kind of signal I was supposed to catch, or something, and I didn’t. So. I’m sorry.” Stiles looks up in time to catch Derek wincing like he thinks it’s an awful apology.

It is awful, but not because Stiles hated last night. It’s awful because Derek thought Stiles didn’t _enjoy_ it. That Stiles _hated_ it, when the truth is, his head has been clearer than it’s been in months thanks to Derek taking the reins last night. Stiles doesn’t know how to tell him this. 

There’s a beat of the most godawful, uncomfortable silence before Derek says in a small voice, “Stiles?” 

Stiles sets his fork down and stands up, and Derek watches him. He comes around to Derek’s side of the table and stares at him, unblinking, for a moment, before he drops to his knees, averting eye contact so he’s staring at the floor. Derek says again, just as uncertainly, “Stiles?” 

So Stiles tilts his neck back and to the side, offering it to Derek, eyes still watching the floor. He swallows, throat tight. Derek inhales sharply, and the room is so quiet for a moment that Stiles feels like he can hear both their heartbeats pounding against their ribcages, beating out nervous little butterfly patterns. And then slowly, so slow, Derek reaches out and clasps his hand against Stiles’ neck and squeezes tight, just once. 

And the tension floods out of Stiles’ body, and he slumps like a marionette dolls with the strings cut, relaxed and relieved. 

Derek leans forward and presses a kiss to Stiles’ forehead in silent thanks. 

++

He makes Stiles talk about it, of course. There on his knees in the kitchen, after Derek goes and gets a pillow for Stiles to kneel on, he asks Stiles all the regular kink questions, about his past experiences. It’s uncomfortable for Stiles, talking about sex in such a business-like way with Derek, with his One True Love. He’s done it before in clubs with anonymous partners, but he feels like he shouldn’t need to do this with Derek, even though he does, even though it’s the safest way. He feels like just having _Derek_ should be enough, but knowing that Derek wants it, that Derek will guide him and protect him and keep him safe even if he’s breaking Stiles apart at the time – it helps. 

When it’s all said and done, Derek has their list of kinks filled out, and he tucks it away in their top dresser drawer and comes back to the kitchen and says, “Just give me a few days.” 

Stiles smiles up at him and says, “Take as long as you want.” Derek runs his hands through Stiles hair and smiles affectionately at him. 

“You can get up now, you know,” he says after a moment. 

“I know,” Stiles murmurs, and leans forward and rests his head against Derek’s thigh. “Can you just – my head is clearer like this.” 

Derek tightens his fingers in Stiles’ hair for a moment before he starts running them through it again, and Stiles smiles against him. “Yeah,” Derek says. “Okay.” 

++  
“Safewords?” 

“Green for go, yellow for slow down and talk, red for stop,” Stiles says quietly, and then adds, “Sir.” 

“Good boy,” Derek says, looking down at him. 

He’s naked, kneeling on the bedroom floor, hard already, and wanting. Derek’s standing above him in nothing but jeans, and Stiles can see he’s hard already, too, and his mouth waters. He suddenly wants Derek’s cock in his mouth like nothing he’s ever wanted before. Derek snaps his fingers. “Eyes up here,” he orders, and Stiles swallows. 

Derek shows him his toys – a blindfold, and ties he wraps around the headboard. “We’ll see how long we can go before you beg,” Derek tells him, and there’s a flash of a wicked, teasing grin on his face. “And maybe, if you beg prettily enough, you’ll get what you ask for.” 

He orders Stiles up and onto the mattress, and then he ties Stiles’ wrists, ordering him to spread his legs. Then he wraps the blindfold around Stiles’ head, asks him if he can see anything. Stiles can’t even see shadows – it’s a good blindfold, so he shuts his eyes and squeezes them tight. 

Derek takes his time, runs his fingertips over every inch of Stiles’ skin, then uses his lips, then his hands. Stiles is shivering, whimpering every time Derek comes _this close_ to his cock before brushing past it and continuing on. 

And Stiles – Stiles wants. But he feels so good, higher than any drug could ever get him. _Derek_ makes him feel this way. Derek, with his orders and his stern voice and his fingers and his rules. Derek ties him down and clears his head and lifts his spirits, and Derek is his anchor, keeping him steady in the dark of the high waves, when Stiles is just this close to lifting up and floating away, Derek grounds him. Derek’s touch and Derek’s words. 

It could be hours or minutes, until Stiles is begging, pleading, saying things like, “Wanna come, wanna feel your hand on me, _Sir,_ want your cock in my mouth, love your cock in my mouth, love when I get to taste you, Sir, Sir, _please,_ ” and Derek leans up and presses a smile against Stiles’ face – Stiles doesn’t see it but he _feels_ Derek’s smile. 

“Where do you want my hands, baby?” he murmurs against Stiles’ cheek. 

And Stiles lets out the most wanton whine, arches up against his bonds. “M-my cock, Sir, _please._ ” Derek reaches out and brushes what Stiles thinks must be his knuckles along Stiles’ cock. Stiles whines against, shakes his head. “P-please, more.” 

“Shh, baby, shh, I’ll get you what you need,” Derek soothes. “’m gonna fuck you, Stiles, and you’re gonna come without anything touching your cock, okay?” 

Stiles sobs, breathes out, “I can’t, Sir, Derek, I _can’t._ ” And Derek sinks down until his mouth is pressed against Stiles’ hole, hums against his skin, gently places a kiss against the sensitive spot, the vibration as he hums and kisses making Stiles jump, because his skin is already too tight around his bones, tightening more and more with every thrust of Derek’s tongue inside of him, one minute, two, three, then four, then Derek pulls away, comes back up and kisses Stiles’ jaw.

“You’re so good for me, Stiles,” Derek whispers. “All laid out, all this beautiful skin, only marked by _me._ You should see the bruises I left with my teeth along your hips, Stiles, all your blood rising up because of _me,_ ” and Stiles can picture it, perfect grape-stained marks along the vee of his hips, can practically feel the sting of Derek’s teeth still on him. He moans, thrashes his head as Derek’s cock brushes against his hole. Stiles arches up, hands straining against his bonds once Derek’s cock is inside of him. Derek bottoms out and quickly finds a punishing, fast rhythm, angling until his brushing against the spot inside of Stiles that makes Stiles sob once again. “So good,” Derek says again, leaning down and kissing just under where the blindfold ends. 

“Please, I – Derek – Sir, can’t, wanna t-touch, s-see.”

He can feel Derek’s hair brushing across his forehead as he shakes his head _no, not happening,_ and Stiles groans in frustration and then pleasure at a particularly rough thrust. “Gonna make you come like this,” Derek pants. “And next time – next time, I’m gonna play with you for _hours_ baby. Gonna get some toys, watch you stretch around them, listen to you beg me to come, ‘til I gag you so you can’t talk. Maybe – might gag you with my cock, Stiles, you want that?” 

“ _Yes,_ Sir, please, love the taste of your cock, love your cock in my mouth, wanna taste you Sir.” 

“I know you do, sweetheart,” Derek croons, “You’d like it, wouldn’t you? You’d like it if I did that. Bet you’d like it if I took you over my knee, spanked you, ‘til your ass was as red as the pretty blush on your cheeks, wouldn’t you?” 

“Mm,” Stiles moans, and he’s this close, just dangling on the edge, about to go over, just needs that one last _thing,_ his skin too tight, his bones creaking with each thrust, starbursts exploding behind the blindfold and his eyelids, his blood boiling with need, wrists straining against their ropes, trying to break free. 

“Go ahead, Stiles,” Derek whispers against his ear, thrusting roughly, once, twice, three times, “Go ahead and come.” 

And that’s it, that’s what he needed, _permission_.

And he gets it. 

So Stiles comes. 

++

“You’re okay,” Derek whispers ten minutes later, kissing him gently. “I’m gonna take the blindfold off first, okay?” 

“Mm,” Stiles nods, trying to pull closer to Derek, nuzzle his face into Derek’s neck. 

“Keep your eyes closed for a couple seconds, let yourself adjust slow, okay baby?” Derek says gently, pulling the blindfold away. Stiles keeps his eyes shut, but they flutter, surprised at the shock of the lamplight suddenly more visible to him. “Open them slow,” Derek instructs, so Stiles does, blinking slowly, spots appearing for a few moments, before his eyes settle on Derek. Derek looks pleased, gentle and soft and so _happy_ with Stiles. And Stiles can only imagine how he looks, fucked-out, blissed-out, happy and calm and _at peace,_ ” because that’s how he _feels._

Stiles makes a noise at the back of his throat, a cross between a whine and a purr, and Derek leans forward and begins untying the ropes. “Almost done, baby,” Derek murmurs, and when the left wrist is untied, he moves over and unties the right one, before taking them both into his hands and rubbing them. “Feels good,” Stiles slurs, leaning in, snuggling into the curve of Derek’s side. 

“You did good, Stiles. So good.” Stiles smiles against Derek’s skin, kisses the spot there. 

“So did you,” he says, and feels some of the tension Derek probably thought he was hiding flood out. 

It’s good.

**Author's Note:**

> if this wasn't absolutely awful, you can find me over on tumblr @ dylanobilinski, where I blog mostly about my feelings and deep abiding love for all things Dylan O'Brien, TW, and currently, as a new interest, Supernatural.


End file.
